Review of Old Dogs by Donna Moore (Busted Flush Press, 2010)

Old Dogs was officially published yesterday. I’ve had an advance copy, won in a competition, for a little while and pushed it to the top of the TBR pile to coincide with its release. Having thoroughly enjoyed Go to Helena Handbasket, Donna Moore’s last novel, I was looking forward to another comic crime caper. And that’s what’s delivered – a comic heist story that, to me, was rooted in the best traditions of British, 1980s alternative comedy (which is shorthand for quite a few bums, tits, poo, etc jokes and anarchic scenes) (see my post here).

I was going to write a synopsis, but for once the blurb on the back of the book does a good job: ‘La Contessa Letitzia di Ponzo and her sister Signora Teodora Grisiola are not who they might seem. Now in their seventies, they’re actually Letty and Dora, a pair of ex-hookers turned con-artists who’ve decided to steal a pair of gold, jewel-encrusted Tibetan shih tzu dog statuettes from a Glasgow museum. Unfortunately, it seems everyone wants to get their hands on the expensive pooches. There’s the dodgy chauffeur, a pair of delinquents who work in a crematorium, an out-of-work insomniac bent on revenge, and an innocent young islander who’s obsessed with returning the dogs to Tibet. And yet the elderly con-artists might just manage to execute their plan and live the rest of their lives in the lap of luxury. That’s if they can avoid the Australian hitman with his sights on a very different future for them. . .’

I enjoyed Old Dogs and laughed out loud several times. There’s a nice blend of characters, some very well judged observations and scenes, a good intertwining of subplots, a cantering pace, and a comic moment on every page. That said, the story is a little uneven in places and, I’m not sure whether this was due to having an uncorrected proof, there seemed to be a couple of continuity lapses. These though are minor issues as overall it’s an entertaining read and provided a welcome Scottish diversion from the misery that is the Irish recession. As well as writing novels, Donna Moore also runs the blog, Big Beat from Badsville, where she posts about Scottish crime fiction and some of the craziness in her life. Well worth subscribing to.

The Comic Strip Presents ... Old Dogs?

I'm presently reading Old Dogs by Donna Moore, a comic heist story, with an ensemble cast of tarts, crooks, assassins, neds, and the occassional innocent and naive soul, all after a pair of golden shih tzu statuettes on exhibition in a Glasgow museum.

One gets the distinct impression from reading Old Dogs, that one wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of Ms Moore. She has an acerbic line of put-downs (e.g., 'He's a dodgy, rat-faced, little wanker who wouldn't know the word 'honesty' if it gave him a lap dance and bit him on the arse'), and a vengeful sense of justice that involves a bucket of dog shit, a bag of prawns, and a pair of scissors. I'm particularly fond of Dunk and Raymie, a pair of layabout neds, who spend a good chunk of the book squeezed together in a toilet cubicle, only one them keeps needing to use the toilet.

'I need a Barry White.'
'No fucking way Raymie. You'll need to hold it in.'
'I cannae, Dunk. I'm touching cloth.'

'Fuck's sake Raymie, your arse is boufin' ya manky bastit. That's no' a shite, that's a weapon of mass destruction.'
'Shall I flush it?'
'Flush it? That keech isn't going to go down the stank. They're going to find it floating here tomorrow and put it in the museum as an exhibit.'

It's One Night at the Museum, 'Comic Strip Presents ...' style. Perfect for a soul raised on 1980s, British alternative comedy.

Sticky fingers

Do Some Damage have put up a challenge to write a piece of recession meets crime flash fiction. I've started a piece involving a woman reduced to shoplifting to help make ends meet. Then today I witnessed an old woman doing her bit to liberate some goods without payment. I'd popped into a newsagents in a small country town to buy a newspaper and pick up a birthday card. I also picked up a copy of Peter Temple's Truth, which I was delighted to come across. As I went pay an old, thin, smartly dressed woman, with long grey hair piled up in a bun on the top of her head, sidled to the front of the queue and pushed in in front of me to buy two magazines. Her first trick was to make a show of placing the 2.40 euro required in her right hand, turning it over to drop the coins into the cashier's palm but keeping hold of the two euro coin. The cashier went to drop the coins into the till and realised she'd been had. The old woman reluctantly passed over the missing coin. She then shuffled off to one-side to where she'd left her bag on the floor. As she bent over to put the magazines into her bag she grabbed a bag of crisps (chips) and dropped them into the bag, placing the magazines on top, then casually shuffled out of the shop. I glanced over at the cashier, who shrugged and totalled up how much I owed her. The front cover of Donna Moore's forthcoming Old Dogs springs to mind; except remove the shades and think country not city.

Old Dogs and the adjusting of underwear

Donna Moore has very kindly sent me an advance, uncorrected proof of her soon to be published novel, Old Dogs (Busted Flush Press). It arrived in the post this morning and it looks great. I've only read the first paragraph so far, but I'm looking forward to reading it post haste.

Barry Sheenan looked at the diamonds sparkling around the wrinkled throat of the woman in front of him and surreptitiously adjusted his y-fronts. Wealth gave him a hard-on and these two old bags were dripping with it. It wasn't so much the wealth itself, as the idea of separating it from its owners. In this case, La Contessa Letitzia di Ponzo and her sister Signora Teodora Grisiola, according to the gold-embossed card the Contessa has pressed into hand. He held it between his thumb and index finger and transferred it easily from finger to finger and back again. It even felt luxurious and rich, passing through his fingers like silk.

I would make some crack along the lines of, 'I'm so excited to be sent this book, I've had to surreptiously adjust my y-fronts', but those kind of gags are much better left to those that can actually deliver a line. If Old Dogs follows in the footsteps of Ms Moore's last outing, Go To Helena Handbasket, it'll be full of puns, double entendres, silly gags, comic mayhem and a joy to read.